past pleasantries
by phaenomenaa
Summary: He loves her, but she is not his to love. Germany/Belgium, sometime in the early 1800's. HUMAN AU. (rated M for later chapters! not really though OTL)
1. Chapter 1

The first time his eyes fall on her's, he thinks he's in love.

She stands between two men, smiling with a glass of champagne held between her pale, white delicate fingers. Her light lavender pink lips part to release peals of delicious, saccharine laughter. Her peridot green eyes glint so very much like the effervescent refreshment she sips from, and her laugh echoes throughout the room, feminine and pretty. Ludwig thinks he must ask for her hand right away, but to do so, he realizes quickly, he must speak to her — God forbid he speak to her like the blundering fool he is.

He tilts his head towards his friend, slightly nudging the older man. He discreetly points towards her with his own drink, inquiring about her person. Roderich turns and mutters something about a Miss Emma Martens coming from the Bonnefoy household, being under their care for the season.

After casting a glance at his tall cousin, the aristocrat informs Ludwig of her poor background — she is of the third class, daughter of a deceased clergyman — not a suitable match, at least, not according to him. The young man merely nods, not particularly hearing — nor caring — whatever his friend has said as he admires the young woman across the room, entranced.

Roderich watches him and knows he's already far too infatuated to reason with. Poor boy, he thinks.

.

They are introduced to one another later that evening.

Her cheeks are flushed pink from the alcohol and his are tinged red from clumsiness. Erzsébet retreats with a knowing smile, professing some apology about having to check up on her husband.

Ludwig turns towards the retreating dame, mouth opening with a want to call her back at his side — he is completely lost, alone, in this young woman's presence. He pointedly tries not to glare nor look too intimidating and gains back his composure to face the pretty little thing at his side. She is even more delightful up close, Ludwig thinks, and he prays he'll not scare her away with his imposing stature and inscrutable visage.

The nervous man glances down, worried of her expression. He finds she is grinning handsomely, the green of her eyes sparkling. She speaks first and ponders whether he's danced yet. Before he can deny (for the man has poor grace) she is already moving towards the dance floor, settling her glass on a servant's tray and looking over her shoulder at him, inviting.

Ludwig frowns and lowly pleas a call of her name, but she is resolute on waltzing. He sighs, sets his own refreshment down and follows her.

.

Ludwig loses count of the dances they've waltzed — he realizes he doesn't particularly care, as long as he's still in her company. For the moment, he is back at Roderich's side, his dance partner having left to freshen up.

He remembers her slightly uneven breath, her laughter as she declared him quite good at waltzing, and God, he remembers her touch on his shoulder, the feel of her palm against his.

Whilst they danced, he learned that she too was interested in economy — she bragged she would make a far better tradesmen than her brother, were it not for her being of the fairer sex — and she too indulges in reading, particularly romance novels (although he himself was too shy to admit he cared for romance too).

He cannot fathom how he thought himself afraid of her.

.

Gilbert eventually comes round, a drink in his hand, and stands next to his taller sibling. "And what has my dearest brother been doing this evening?" he jests, laughing. "How well are you acquainted with this wall, brother?"

"You must find yourself so very amusing, Gilbert." Ludwig replies, a small smile on his lips. His eyes glance towards the main hall doorway, anxiously waiting for Miss Martens to come back.

"You'll be pleased to hear that I do not find myself amusing but am."

Ludwig grins, looking down at his older brother. "Then you shall be disappointed to know that I've not just stood here all this time."

"No!" Gilbert mocks astonishment, taking a sip from his beverage. "Do humour me, what have you been doing then?"

"I've danced." The youngest declares, blush dusting his face.

"Danced? With whom, Roderich?"

Ludwig scowls at his brother before answering chastely the name of his partner.

"Martens…" Gilbert rolls the name over his tongue a few times, thinking. "The Bonnefoy girl?"

"Just so."

Gilbert stares at his brother, smiling. Ludwig does not note the harsh look in his brother's eyes, despite the joyous face. The elder sibling claps him on the back, muttering some congratulations about him maybe not being such a stick in the mud and retreats, weaving his way through the crowds of people.

.

At the end of the night, he catches her one last time, their eyes brushing over one another's look. He poorly asks if he may call on her presence some time, but of course he wouldn't want to impose and completely understands should she decline and quite honestly he's not surpri —

she stops him with a soft call of his name. She turns (lips curved, just shy of a smile) towards her carrosse and meanders off in the fresh midsummer night, her step light and demure.

He is left in the dark with her last words, repeated only to him.

'_I think I would like that very much, Mr. Beilschmidt._'

He smiles yet again like the blundering fool he is.

.


	2. Chapter 2

A fortnight later, he musters enough courage to call on her presence.

(Gilbert had smiled knowingly when Ludwig asked for the courier, stating that he merely wished to send a small something — something of no import, he had said. Of course, Gilbert could always tell when his dear brother lied.)

The card is effectively short and straight to the point; nonetheless, the whole Bonnefoy household is alerted of its arrival. Emma races down the stairs, grinning like mad and mindful not to trip on her gown as she calls for her chaperon's name.

Instead, she finds Monsieur Bonnefoy's _old friend_ Mr. Kirkland (although they may dupe society with their alleged friendship, Emma is no fool.) He stands at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, thick eyebrows scrunched up.

"He's invited me for a half-month." she says, breathless in her mirth as she hands over the letter.

"Of course he has!" The Englishman frowns, taking hold of it. "Any sensible young man would," he says, his eyes scanning the writing briefly. He looks back towards Emma, eyes narrowing in disapproval. "And any sensible young woman would know not to bound down the stairs like some bumbling baboon."

"It appears that if anybody were to be the living embodiment of an incomprehensible primate, it would be you, _Mr. Kirkland_," her chaperon declares, entering the grand hall. "Let her be content, Arthur."

"Yes, well. She will not be courting with that sort of behaviour." Arthur grunts.

"Then I am to go?" Emma asks, the lilt of her voice holding a touch of naiveté.

"_Biensûr, ma chérie_!" Francis answers, smiling. "It would be most foolish to refuse a call from such a promising affair!"

"And are we not fools in love," Arthur grumbles, handing back the letter to the girl, but she doesn't hear his petty comment, for she's already dashing back upstairs to pack her bags, and_ oh my, I've got to tell Erzsébet_!

.

Erzsébet laces her dearest friend's arm with hers, sauntering deeper into Francis's garden. They walk in pleasant muteness under the early aurora sun, both women silenced with pensive thoughts.

"Do you find many amenities in Mr. Edelstein?" Emma asks, her voice quiet.

Erzsébet chuckles prettily and turns towards her friend, finding her to be quite serious. "Yes, I—" she stops, not quite sure what sort of answer her friend wishes to hear. "Well, yes. I suppose I do."

"What I mean to convey—that is, hope for—is the question of whether Mr. Edelstein grants you happiness with his affections?"

"Oh! yes—yes, very much so." Erzsébet replies, "I am quite content with Roderich."

"Do you love him?" she inquires, bashful.

"Emma," she says as her step falters, stopping their promenade, "do you forget me? to hold such deep an engagement with another and feel no affection? I could never." She holds the naive girl's hands in her own, pulling her towards her person. "We've great fortune in falling in love, Emma. One would be ill-advised to trifle with such matters of the heart; we've the utmost luxury to find someone with whom to share these very things," she reflects, letting go of their entwined hands to drop on a bench.

Emma lowers herself beside her friend, her bare feet digging into the ground, humid with the early morning's dew.

"To marry a man whose best virtue is his wealth is great luck," Erzsébet says in a low voice, as if a confession, "but to marry a man whom you love is an even greater one."

The fair-headed girl nods, plucking a forget-me-not from the fresh ground to toy with. "Then you must be fate's protégée," she muses, delicately placing the flower in Erzsébet's hair.

* * *

alright so here's the second chapter! (I'm so sorry for it's lateness, hopefully the next chapters will be up sooner)

I apologize for any inaccuracies - the regency era has sooo many rules! I do try my best; I've been researching (thank you, immerwennesdunkelwird, for the lovely websites!) and reading some of Jane Austen's work.

translations:

"_Biensûr, ma chérie_!" means "Of course, my darling!"


End file.
